


Magical Emporium

by enchanted_nightingale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Magic, Magical Artifacts, Magical Toys, Magical building, magical shop, toymaker Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchanted_nightingale/pseuds/enchanted_nightingale
Summary: A seven year old Harry stumbles into a shop unlike anything he has seen before.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 157





	Magical Emporium

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the movie ‘Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium’  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from them and I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

He had stumbled, unable to stop it, since his cousin had tripped him rather expertly. He knew better than to dodge it; then a beating would come. They had just exited the museum the primary school had taken them too and Harry was all alone, separated from the other seven year old children and none of the teachers had been paying any attention. It was why Dudley took the chance to trip him and Harry fell roughly on the ground with a thud. His hand connected rather awkwardly with the concrete.

His hand did not break, Harry would know if the hand had been broken, it had happened in the past when he had been carrying boxes for Uncle Vernon and Dudley had pushed him down the chair he had been standing on. Breaking bones hurt, that was one of the facts Harry had learned early on. Being blamed about things he never did also hurt because it was certain that Harry would get the blame and that meant a smack on the face or the head and being bodily thrown in his cupboard. Water seeped through Harry’s worn jeans and blouse. It had rained earlier and it was chilly before but now that he was wet, the green eyed boy was practically trembling. That was yet another thing the child was used to.

When Harry finally got to his feet, ignoring his stinging hands and knees, he could no longer see Dudley or his hang or any of the teachers from his school. This made the green eyed child pause. Carefully, the kid looked around, heart thumbing hard in his chest with worry. Had they forgotten him? Was he lost? He had only lost sight of the teachers for minutes.

He backed away from the busy crowd that kept his back to the nearest surface, carefully looking around at the crowds surrounding him, ignoring him. Harry supposed it was natural he was ignored as his clothes made him look like a beggar. Back pressed against hard glass and wood and for a moment Harry felt like he could gather his breath. But then his support failed and Harry tumbled for the second time that day, falling backwards into the shaded store.

An exclamation of surprise escaped his lips yet no one looked at him, like the moment he crossed the threshold of this place he was invisible.

Dust kicked up all around him and Harry started coughing. The shock passed and he was on his feet again. He did not notice that his clothes were no longer wet. All he could see was a dusty, shadowy place with lots of showcases and dark objects that looked like toys painted all grey and black.

“At least it’s not cold here,” Harry muttered as he chanced a glance at his surroundings. “Looks like a store,” he realized and walked hesitantly further inside.

“Hello? Is anyone here? Um, I’m sorry I came in! I did not mean to! I…I guess I will be leaving now,” the child said and turned around.

The moment he reached the door, the green eyed boy found that the door would not unlock. At first, Harry though it was stuck, but after the third attempt he grew panicked. He was getting ready to cry, he really was. Vernon always said he was trouble and now, if they found him here, in a store, where he was never supposed to be, then he would get more than a smack on the head and a week with only bread and water to it. Dark thoughts flowed in his mind and the child did not see one of the dolls gaining color. It was a teddy bear wearing a wizard’s top hat. The teddy was soft and brown and the hat velvety blue with comets and stars twirling on the fabric.

“Please open,” Harry asked the doors, as he tugged them again, to no avail. “Please.”

He then felt a soft tap on his foot. Startled, the child looked down, just in time for a few tears to trickle out of his eyes and down his cheeks. The teddy raised its hands up. The child remained staring as the moving toy practically asked to be picked up.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Harry knelt and picked the toy up with reverence. He had never held a toy like this before, ever. Dudley had many toys like this but he usually tore limbs from them, rendering them useless after a while. What little Harry had as toys were broken toy soldiers Dudley had thrown out and scarps of crayons and colored pencils he had nicked from his cousin’s room. He had never had a toy of his own, never had known they were so soft, so cuddly. Harry carefully clutched the toy to him, softly petting the fur arms and the velvet robes it was dressed in.

“I can’t keep you,” he told the bear regretfully. “I don’t have any money and Aunt Petunia always tells me that I owe her lots.”

He gave the bear a few more pets before he regrettably placed the toy back down on the floor. He tried to let go, but the toy would not budge, soft hands clutching at Harry, not letting him step away. The child stared at the toy with wonder. It was one of the weird things that tended to happen around him (and that included the time his hair grew overnight).

Finally, the toy clutching Harry’s hand, tugged as if telling the child to follow. And Harry did follow, still bewildered by the events.

The toy lead Harry away from the doors and into the room. As the green eyed boy walked among the toy displays, color started appearing on the various toys, the dark shades receding, colours streaking over the various shelves. And this time the child paid attention to his surroundings, watching with awe as the previous drab and dark store becoming colorful and sections lit up, as if…

“Magic,” the green eyed child breathed, his eyes growing wide and big with wonder. He recalled Vernon and his Aunt yelling that magic was not real, but this could be nothing of not magical.

Various knickknacks started moving, toys much like the one leading him around came alive, stretching as of woken by a long slumber. Up above him bubbles and planes tore through the air. From various spots, music boxes started making noise, toy soldiers and ballerinas dancing to tune. Trains and cars and fire trucks, board games and puppets, this store was filled to the brim with toys slowly coming alive.

The walls were bright greens and yellows and reds and blues and the floor soft and shiny where just minutes ago everything had been dark and dusty and nothing like the toy store it so obviously was supposed to be. Harry looked around with wonder, having never seen so many toys before. He had never even entered such a store before. He knew some times were robotic and were supposed to move (Dudley had broken a robot dog before), but they looked nothing like Dudley’s toys.

He did not notice he was not alone until the floor creaked, and Harry turned around. An old woman was waiting there. She looked older than Mrs. Finch and though she did not smell like cats at all. Her eyes were blue, a blue brighter than any color he had ever seen. Her skin was pale and smelled like chocolate and cookie dough. She wore a bright yellow dress and had her hair short and spiky. She was slim and tall and just looked kind and amused.

“Well, well, look what we have here brother? Looks like a child!”

“Then it probably is a child,” a deep voice grunted, making Harry hold his breath as a tall man came from around tall shelves. He was taller than any man Harry had ever met. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that would make Vernon jealous. He had rich blond hair falling in curls over his shoulders and he had the same blue eyes the old woman had.

“Um, I’m sorry to come in your store,” Harry said, swallowing a lump of fear that lodged in his throat. He eyed the toy still holding him. “I was not stealing! I swear!”

“Of course you are not stealing!” the old woman said. “I see Mister Pepper likes you; good! I just made gingerbread cookies and I love them with a glass of warm milk. You look like you could use some warming up. Come, join me!”

Before Harry could blink, he was marched off to the back of the store and towards a door with what looked like a wheel of fortune. The wheel had several colors on it. There was blue and yellow, green and red, orange and pink, purple and brown, white and black. Harry watched as the old woman turned the wheel to yellow and the door latched open, showing a staircase that led upwards.

The smells of cookie dough, sugar and spices reached the green eyed child’s nose, making Harry’s stomach ache. It had been two days since he last ate anything but milk and stale bread.

The stairs Harry climbed were made of wood and there was wallpaper all around in soft cream colors. They reached upstairs were a vast living room and a kitchen were sharing space. There was a dining room big enough for a dozen people. There was a corridor and many doors and even more windows and a double glass doors that led to what was a balcony and a garden at once. Harry could not stop looking around. The house was nothing like his Aunt’s. There was order yes, it was also clean too, clustered with knick knacks. It did not smell like cleaning products and disinfectant like his relatives’ house. No, this was like what he had imagined a home would be.

“Come on, you’re too skinny for my tastes,” the old woman said and showed Harry to a chair.

A huge plate of sandwiches and the promised gingerbread cookies and milk were shown in front of Harry.

“Eat up Harry,” the man said.

The child stared. “How do you know my name? Who are you people?”

“I am Arddun and this is my younger brother, Arian. And we have been expecting you, or at least someone like you,” the old woman, Arddun told the child.

“Me? Why?” Harry asked, suspicious and hesitant. He had still made no move to eat or drink anything.

“Because it has been years since this store was open, since we had an owner,” Arian grunted. “The store has been depressed since the last owner died, but that was no surprise, muggles seldom live lives long enough for the shop to be satisfied. We have not had a wizard in a long time.”

“Since 1427 actually,” Arddun added emphatically. “The witch trials were tough times for us.”

Harry stared. Finally he opened his mouth. “What?”

The siblings shared an amused look.

“Didn’t you notice something unusual about this place, Harry?” the old woman asked.

The child swallowed hard and shook his head.

Arian snorted. “Come on now child, don’t lie to yourself, much less to us. You saw, we know you saw it. This place is magical.”

“Magic is not real,” Harry said, as a mantra he had repeated to himself lots of times. He was afraid to believe it was real. Because then he would be an even bigger freak.

“Really?” Arddun asked pointedly, his eyes just a bit mocking, as if he was daring Harry to admit the truth.

The raven haired boy looked away, not liking the way her eyes looked at him, not baring to say no because deep down, he knew these two were right.

“Eat, you’re too thin little one,” Arddun said again.

Harry reached for one of the small sandwich triangles that were pushed towards him and reluctantly took a bite. He could not contain a hum of pleasure as he started tasting the various flavours, and he certainly missed the look the strange siblings shared over his head at the reaction. Without a word the plate was pushed firmly in front of him and he was told to finish the rest, while Arddun plopped a glass of milk with a huge cookie on the side and suggested he was to finish everything.

“And afterwards, we’ll show you you’re room,” Arian said. “There are many things you should know and we better start early, no time to lose.”

“My room?” Harry asked, after he swallowed his small bite. “I have a room? What about…?”

Blue eyes that seemed to read him pinned him and the child felt a bit uncertain at the kind and knowing look in them.

“Do you really want to go back? To that cupboard? To no meals, to getting locked out of the house? Working under the rain, in the cold and not even once hearing thanks for all your hard work?” Arddun asked.

“Why do you care?” Harry demanded, as his eyes hardened just a tiny bit. No one else had ever cared, not his teachers, not the nurse at the clinic he was taken when Dudley broke his wrist that one time, not the neighbors, no one. They had all believed the lies the Dursleys had said about Harry and the green eyed wizard had never had anyone help him, offer to feed him, or at least give him a look that was not suspicion or contempt. That these two strangers that he found in this weird place wanted to have him… It was odd and suspicious and great all the same. But good things did not happen to Harry, ever.

“We’ll never hurt you, Harry,” Arian said and for once his deep voice did not frighten the green eyed child.

“Who are you?” the child asked.

“We told you our names,” Arddun said.

“But…” Harry protested.

“Eat,” Arian insisted. “Everything else we can work out later. You are safe here with us. Now that you are ours, we’re not going to let you go.”

And Harry believed him for some odd reason. The way he said it, the way he looked at Harry, it was like those mothers looked their children, like Petunia looked at Dudley.

This, Harry realized, was what it felt like to be wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not exactly a new story. It was sitting in my laptop for a couple of years.  
> I am currently in the middle of writing and updating other on going stories when re-discovered this and and decided to upload it.  
> Currently I am half way done with the second part for this, but it can stand alone as it is.


End file.
